Tuesday, 7 May 2013

By Mathiba Len Molefe

Futility (1)

I gather my thoughts in leaking hands and stand on an earth that crumbles beneath me
I place my trust in flawed individuals and plant my seeds of hope on barren land
I dream dreams that are soon to be forgotten and I’m sustained by air that is foul and rotten
I build an empire that I myself will tear down and live in a house that I myself will burn to the ground
I love a woman that I know will break my heart and I love again with that broken heart
I shed tears that evaporate in an instant and walk on a beach so the ocean engulfs my footprints
No trace of my passing or proof of my existence and still I go on with a hardy persistence
We prolong lives that will inevitably be taken and build on our faith that is so often shaken
We toil in fields that will not yield and we beat swords from steel but make wooden shields
We vote for change that brings no change and yet lay idle, aint that strange
Most perplexing is human futility, most curious is human activity.
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